Invisible
by daisydancex33
Summary: He’ll give her a smile over something she says or some inside joke that I’m not privy to, and she’ll shoot back a shy smile that never fails to make him beam at her. Then she’ll beam back. And it goes on. Every time. It’s driving me crazy."


**Title:** Invisible

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** I don't do song fics, but this was inspired by listening to Taylor Swift's _Invisible_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bones_. Christmas is coming, but I'm not sure Santa's going to be able to put anything but the DVDs under my tree.

He smiles at her all the time.

_All_ the time

It's frustrating.

_So_ frustrating.

But not as frustrating as the fact the she smiles back.

_Every damn time._

He'll give her a smile over something she says or some damn _inside joke_ that I'm not privy to, and she'll shoot back a shy smile that never fails to make him beam at her. Then she'll beam back. And it goes on.

_Every damn time._

It's driving me crazy.

And when they walk, he puts his hand on the small of her back.

Lightly, just to say that he's there for her, protecting her.

_Loving her?_ Maybe.

Probably.

Definitely.

Unfortunately.

That used to be my spot, back in the day. He used to usher me in and out of rooms with his hand on the small of my back, a gentle pressure to remind me of his unyielding support.

_Back in the day? When the hell did I start talking like that?_

He would protect me with his hand on the small of my back, but he doesn't anymore, because she has taken over that spot.

They spend all their time together.

It's pathetic, really, that they don't have anybody else.

Except not, because I'm…something.

Jealous?

Yes.

Irrationally jealous.

Because he used to spend his time with me. For a long time, we spent all of our time together.

And then she came along, and he doesn't spend time with me anymore.

Unless we're with her.

Not alone.

Never alone.

It honestly seems like I'm no longer his friend.

We were best friends.

We would stay up late over take out or paperwork or both.

We would tell stories and corny jokes.

We were there for each other.

We were best friends, _always_ with a hint of something more.

A very strong hint.

A huge hint.

But now he has that with her.

Except not a hint.

The full-blown thing.

I've seen them together.

And maybe it's just the irrational jealousy coming out, but it seems like they share a few more stories.

Tell more (and funnier) jokes.

Eat each other's food; help with the other's work.

Are closer in general.

He stops by the lab to pick up a file on a Saturday.

He looks good.

Wearing his leather jacket, worn jeans, and a t-shirt spread over his chest, he definitely looks good.

I ask him what he's been doing today.

_He doesn't respond with the same question._

_ Doesn't ask why I'm at the lab, what I'm doing._

He says that they have been watching movies at their apartment.

Now she is with his son at the park, where he will join them once he retrieves this file he forgot yesterday.

I ask how _they_ are.

As a couple.

He does that beaming thing again.

That grossly happy smile that appears on his face whenever he thinks of her.

He says they are fantastic.

Says that he is _so_ in love.

Has never been this happy in his life.

Then the real kicker comes.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a black velvet box.

My heart stops.

He opens it.

"I've been carrying it around. I got Pops to bring this last time he visited."

"Hank was here?" I manage to choke out.

"About a month ago. It was my grandmother's."

He's going to propose.

He's going to _propose._

Well, shit.

Last chance.

"Do you think she'll like it?" he asks excitedly.

His eyes twinkle.

The way the used to twinkle at me.

Maybe.

"Think she'll say yes?" he questions.

I'm silent.

_Say it_, I encourage myself. _I love you._

"I mean she's just the most amazing person in the whole world. She's my best friend. And I love her so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Damn.

"I mean she used to be against the whole idea. But there are wedding shows recorded on our DVR, and when I asked her about them she said that she's now open to the idea. Isn't that fantastic?"

Damn.

"Camille, what do you think?"

"Seeley—"

"Don't call me Seeley."

"Don't call me Camille," I respond half-heartedly.

The exchange seemed cute every other time we've said it.

Now it's mocking me.

Damn.

"Cam?"

"She'll love it, Booth. Dr. Brennan is a very lucky woman."

He beams again.

_Stop._

"I'm the lucky one."

It's an overused line, but coming off of his tongue, it's new and sincere and passionate and legitimate.

I give him a weak smile.

He pockets the ring, grabs the file, gives me the warm, genuine smile of a man head-over-heels in love, and turns and walks away.

To her.

To his Bones.

_Damn_.


End file.
